


For Your Voice

by allonsytotumblr



Series: I love The Band's Visit in this cafe tonight [1]
Category: The Band's Visit - Yazbek/Moses
Genre: F/M, Free Verse, Musicals, Unrequited Love, Waiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:39:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsytotumblr/pseuds/allonsytotumblr
Summary: The pavement around the phone booth becomes well known to him, as he waits for hours and the time goes by,and she doesn’t call.





	For Your Voice

**Author's Note:**

> I love TBV sO much!! It deserved every Tony it got!!! Don't @ me. The name Tzachi is from the movie, which is AMAZING as well.

Why don’t you call me?

 Tzachi thinks during all the hours that he waits.

 

The pavement around the phone booth becomes well known to him, as he waits for hours and the time goes by,

and she doesn’t call.

 

She is away at university.

No one from Bet Hatikva goes away,

but Amina did.

 She hated this town- like everyone here.

 Amina always said “I,”

“I am leaving,” "I am going to get out,"

not, “we,”

and Tzachi wondered where he fit into her life.

 

Not the center,

He thinks, as he waits.

 

Maybe somewhere in her orbit,

he thinks, as he waits,

remembering learning about the planets in school.

 

But not at the center,

or she would call,

and she doesn’t.

 

He waits because there is nothing better to do during the nights here.

He waits because this pay phone is the one link to her,

and if she calls and he is not here, then what?

 

 If those who pass by him on the street did not know her,

from the years and years she lived here,

they would think Tzachi has made Amina up,

so seldom does she call.

 

Tonight there are men in light blue uniforms,

so different from those of their own soldiers.

And they are on the phone

his phone, he as thinks of it

because he can’t afford a landline or a cellphone,

and reception cannot be trusted here anyway.

 

If she calls, and the line is busy- then what?

This is even worst than him not being here,

because what will she think?

 

That the busy signal represents broken trust,

that he is talking to someone else,

another women from another city,

 

Talking with someone else, like he worries that she is.

Not because she has given him any indication that she would do something like this,

just because she is so far away,

and he wonders,

and he worries.

 

And Tzachi waits.

 

He wears the sweater that she sent him

 She can knit and she made this for him, and it's beautiful.

 

He wears it on these nights in front of the phone,

and waits

and thinks about how smart she is

to get into university,

and a scholarship

and how brave to leave this place

and go and improve her mind.

 

But also he is selfish.

he wants her home,

here.

 

So they can marry and live the rest of their lives in this town

like so many others.

 

He has no other ambitions other than her.

 

Almina said, when she was leaving, when he asked her if she must go:

"What is here for me?”

 

“Me.”

 

But he did not volunteer this as an answer because he feared it would be inadequate.

 

And what is she doing?

he thinks, over and over

and why won’t she call?

 

Tzachi does not hold the phone in his hand now,

he used to-

this was in the early days of his nights by the phone.

Now he waits as far away as the wall of the building across from the phone,

trying to feign indifference before the universe so that Almina will call.

 

Sometimes he paces around the booth, in a small circle.

Each time he passes around the back of it, he feels slightly anxious.

 

Suppose she should call and there should be a microscopic pause between the first ring and his answer?

 He feels like he is tempting fate every time,

and every time he ‘wins' because she does not.

 

When they do speak, he presses the receiver to his ear, thinking of her,

kilometers away,

standing in the hallway of her dorm,

and doing the same.

 

Speaking with her,

he is nervous, and he speaks too fast, not wanting there to be silence between them.

 

And he thinks he sounds too needy,

saying: 

“I miss you, I love you,”

over and over.

 

Sometimes he hears people speaking

in the background.

Even directly to her,

and he knows that she has a whole life

apart from him.

 

When she calls,

he cannot breathe for a second.

He did not think that she would,

tonight, ever.

 

He was walking away.

But who can blame him? It had been a month.

 He tries to steady his voice as he answers:

“S _halom, ma shlomer?”_

as he always does.

 

_“Hello, how are you?”_

 

When he means:

_“I love you and I love that you have called me tonight._

_I do not care that you did not call me,_

_all the other times that I stood here._

_Your voice is all I want.”_

 

Instead he talks about the sweater:

“It’s nice.

It warms me.”

 

Stupid things to say.

 

But it’s not about the conversation,

as long as they are speaking

 

“You see!”

He wants to shout to the sleeping street.

“She has called me.”

 

“I have to go,” Amina says, too soon.

 

What time is it?

He doesn’t know

how long he has stood here,

or if it’s even really night anymore.

 

“Ok,

good bye

I love you

call soon

I love you.”

 

And he’s standing in the silence.

Alone.

 

Tomorrow night he will come back here,

and wait for her to call

 

Answer me, answer me.

 

And maybe she will,

and maybe she won’t.

 

But he will be here anyway.

In case.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> LIStEN, when that damn phone rings, that's the mOST emotionally moving moment in A L L musical theater, I will N O T be taking criticism on this point, send post.
> 
> The art is by me as well.


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